Stupidity
by xyoung.and.wild.and.freex
Summary: "It begins because of stupidity. It was pure and utter idiocy that led yourself believe that there was a chance – even a tiny, slim one – that you could have made Dallas Winston fall in love with you." One-sided Dally/OC.


**okay. first one-shot. let's see how this works out. it's not your standard dally/oc story. **

**disclaimer: i don't own the outsiders or anything else that looks familiar.**

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><p>It begins because of stupidity. It was pure and utter idiocy that led yourself believe that there was a chance – even a tiny, slim one – that you could have made Dallas Winston fall in love with you.<p>

You had heard about Dallas Winston ages before that fateful, rowdy party at Buck's. You knew his name and the stories that often came with it. Girls in your class – even girls older than you that were already graduated and out of high school – spun wild and dirty tales about him. These stories made your cheeks flush and your stomach turn, but it was _fascinating, _really, how so many girls had gotten with him.

Then, Dallas Winston was just a _name_; in your eyes, he could have been a fictional character from a book or a movie. He may not have been even _real – _but it was simply the myths that have entranced you. Perhaps it would have been better that way, when your toes were still safely curling the rocks and you weren't drowning in the ocean that was _him – _a faceless nobody that was named Dallas Winston.

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><p>You had just barely turned seventeen when you unofficially met him on the street weeks ago. It was a habit of yours to always stare down at your feet while you were walking, as it reassured you that you would not trip over your own shoes. It had happened before and you wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.<p>

Mentally counting your steps _(one hundred three, one hundred four)_, you barely noticed as you crash full-on into a tall _someone. _

They curse as you stumble backwards and you immediately feel a rush of fear course through your veins. Your friends and the respectful boys that you usually associate with don't have that sort of mouth. When someone had the nerve to utter those words, they are bad news.

You're still gazing down at your feet fearfully when they none-too-gently nudge you out of the way with their shoulder in order to get around you. Quakes are shaking your body slightly and you're _absolutely sure _that they're going to rough you up and leave you there for everyone to see, so you look up and suddenly your world stops turning because you're gawking right into the deepest eyes you've ever seen.

The face itself is handsome, but not exactly the sort of handsome you're used to. His face isn't soft, it has all edges and is _hard – _even by the way he scowls, you can tell that he's not like the boys you know. He mutters something under his breath – it sounds like "dumb broad", but you're not too sure. You wait until he's safely down the street to let out the breath that you hadn't realized you were holding.

That boy doesn't even have to introduce himself to you – you doubt that he'd have the courtesy to anyways – for you to know that you just literally ran into Dallas Winston.

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><p>Its several days later when you see him again. There's a party at Buck's, and when you arrive, the music is loud enough to shatter your eardrums and there's barely enough room to move. You're usually not the type of girl to go to parties and such, but you're so desperate to get away from your otherwise-pristine life – just for one night. One night.<p>

You have a reputation around school for being so unbelievably pure and prudish that boys are simply talking to you just to see if you'll blush or not. You want to see what it's like to be the sort of girl that Dallas would be in to. So, just for tonight, you decide to just go wild.

And go wild you do.

One beer turns into two, which somehow morphs into five, and then you lose count. You're suddenly mashed up against some strange man who's grabbing _everywhere _he shouldn't be, and you're only slightly flattered _(but mostly disgusted)_ because you've never had anyone touch you like that before. Of course, you're almost too drunk to care, so then someone else grabs your arm and leads you into a slightly more secluded corner of the room and you follow them willingly.

Then you're looking into that _same _pair of eyes that has been haunting you for those several days and you know that you've caught the attention of Dallas.

It's weird, though, because one moment you're so enraptured by his eyes and suddenly your lips are against his. He presses his body into yours, and your back is mashed against the plaster wall, and you can't breathe, and it's all so _wonderfully different _from the soft, tender kisses you are used to_. _Your hands are tangled in his hair and his fingers are ghosting across your stomach and thighs and then his lips are moving from your lips and to your neck and back.

He breaks away from momentarily and you let out a tiny noise of protest, so then he grabs your hand and pulls you along like an old teddy bear, not caring how many people you run into or how many times you trip over your own feet. He leads you up the stairs and into a room. All you can think of, though, is how _great _Dallas' butt looks in those jeans.

The door snaps shut behind you as Dally pulls you into the room. Under normal pretenses, you probably would have wrinkled your nose. There's a certain haze and smell like smoke and you nearly choke.

You turn to face Dallas for a brief moment, and there's a certain _look _in his eyes. With just enough force, he pushes you backwards onto the bed. You bounce up and down slightly, and you're giggling with almost an insane tinge while he climbs on top of you, keeping his weight on his arms so that he wouldn't crush you.

It's a blur, and while he's peppering your neck and face with kisses, he's pulling your clothes off and letting you do the same to him. Unwilling moans emit from your lips, and you're trying to bite back your satisfied noises when the door slams open.

You shriek a little, turning towards the intruder, but Dally doesn't even falter, instead capturing your lips with his and ignoring whoever entered. Your eyes flutter closed and you let out a little "oh", feeling his satisfied smirk against your mouth.

"I hate to interrupt," Someone drawls from the doorway. Dallas lets out something like a feral growl before rolling off of you slowly, purposely giving you enough time to cover your naked torso. It's Buck, the owner of the place, who's leering at you so severely that you turn away in order to avoid his eyes.

"There's someone at the door for you," Buck is still staring at you, not even glancing at Dallas, who stares at Buck with a sort of incredulity.

"I will kill you if you don't get out of here in three seconds."

From the expression on Buck's face, he knows that Dallas isn't bluffing. Still, he hesitates in the door, giving you one last disgusting look before muttering, "It's Johnny and Ponyboy."

Buck disappears from the doorway, and in an instant, Dallas is fully off of you and gathering his jeans, which are on a pile on the floor. He doesn't even apologize when you look at him in confusion, he just says, "You need to get out of here by the time I come back up."

"What?"

He doesn't even bother to clarify, and continues, "We'll pick this up where we left off later."

You're partly trying to ignore him, but then you hear one last thing fall from his lips – it's your name. You weren't even aware that he _knew _your name. It sounds beautiful falling from his lips but he's gone before you can respond. There's nothing left to do, so you do what Dally wishes and hightail it out of there.

No one will give you quite the thrill that Dallas Winston did in your short twenty minutes together – it's practically a given. You're not in the mood for any more drinks, so you call it a night and go home. After the fact, you realize that it probably wasn't the smartest move walking home while drunk, but obviously, you weren't in the best state of mind.

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><p>You wake up the next morning with a killer hangover and the smell of smoke and Dallas on your skin. You contemplate whether or not to shower, but ultimately decide to. It's only a few minutes before every single trace of Dallas are washed off of your body completely.<p>

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><p>When you get to school, it takes everything you have to keep what happened between you and Dallas <em>between <em>you and Dallas. You walk down the hallways with a new sort of confidence, because you know that you're good enough for Dallas – you are just as good as the other Dallas conquests. Maybe you're even better, because he said himself that he wanted to continue what you two have started.

It isn't long before Dallas is interrupting your thoughts in class and you find yourself smiling goofily when you think about his lips. Your stomach starts to turn and butterflies start to fly around it too. It seems as if these butterflies have a terrible sense of direction; knocking into every available space.

You wonder if this is what love feels like. If it is, then it's the best feeling ever felt.

You see Dally on the streets again after school. For one fleeting moment, you think that he won't recognize you, and that thought alone is enough to make tears begin to form in your eyes. But he turns his eyes towards you and that exact cocky smirk lines his lips, and you know that isn't exactly the case.

He takes your virginity right in the back of a car that seems to be parked in the right place at the right time without a second thought. You're not even sure if it's his car – or if he even _knows _whose car it is, but he doesn't seem to care. That's just one of the things that you like about him. He doesn't give a damn.

_(You never really think that he couldn't give a damn about you.)_

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><p>You're at Buck's – in fact, you're there when you're supposed to be at school and it's eerily quiet – in that same room that you were in at the party. You and Dally have done it for the second time, and you're just lying there, cuddling. Dallas is wearing that smirk and staring up at the ceiling. He looks satisfied with his work. You, on the other side, are <em>definitely <em>satisfied with his work.

And that's when you decide to pop the question. You're not exactly where it comes from - it sort of just bursts out like projectile.

"Dallas?"

He doesn't answer, so you take this as encouragement and continue, "Do you love me?"

Dallas nearly shoves you off the bed, he's so desperate to get away from you. Instead, he edges to the opposite end, giving you a suspicious look. "What?" He spits, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows scrunching together.

You know you shouldn't be scared, but you are. His expression has taken on a dangerous tinge. In a moment of daring, you repeat your question.

Dallas stares at you, "You're just a crazy broad, you know that?"

"Dallas – "

"Holy shit," he laughs almost mockingly, staring at you with those eyes that you once thought were deep – they still are, but they're more deep with hate, "You actually thought – holy shit."

You wince at his choice of wording. Then he continues, "No."

"No?"

"What, you expect me to fuckin' lie about something like this? I ain't no liar when it comes to this."

You sort of expected it - because _really, _you had gotten together after a party and sex left unfinished - but it still hurts when you hear it. Without a word, you get dressed and start to head out the door.

It ends because of stupidity. You were an absolute idiot to think that he'd run after you when you walked out on him.

What exactly was your first mistake? Was it falling too hard, too fast for Dallas? Or was it falling for him at all?

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><p>The phone rings a few days later. You know somewhere in your head that it isn't him, but your heart wants so badly to believe otherwise. So you leap up and grab it, nearly falling on your face in the process of getting to the phone. You answer with a hasty, "Hello?"<p>

"Hello?" Someone says back, and the voice is unfamiliar and has a sort of improper twang to it. It isn't him but it's someone that knows him personally – a greaser.

The person on the other line asks if it's you speaking, and you reply with a quiet yes before asking who's calling. It's only polite.

"This is – uh, this is Sodapop Curtis." The voice says before clearing their throat. "I'm a friend of Dally's."

It takes you a moment to realize that this 'Dally' is the same as your 'Dallas.' You've never called him by his nickname, so you simply say, "Yes, hi Sodapop."

"Hi," he says again. "I – Dally mentioned that he was – or you two were…sort of together."

"Really?" You perk up a bit. Maybe Dallas is making Sodapop call because he's too embarrassed. _(You should know better.) _

Sodapop makes a sort of strangled noise and it takes a moment for you to realize that he's actually crying – or that he wants to cry. Your heart sinks, "Hey – what's wrong?"

"He's dead." Sodapop says huskily, thickly, so that you know he's not crying but instead holding it back. You feel a few tears of your own form in your eyes. "Dally's dead."

You're not sure what to say. There's nothing _to _say. So you simply whisper, "Oh."

You'd like to think that Dallas was all torn up because you left him and got himself killed. You'd like to think that Dallas had - somewhere, somehow - feelings for you. But you're lying to yourself, you know. If you're not going to hell for having premarital sex, you're certainly going for bluffing, even if it is just to yourself.

"I – I just thought you'd like to know." Sodapop continues, sounding as if it is slowly killing him to do so. "Since you and him were together."

It almost kills you to say, "We weren't together. He didn't give a damn about me. Our relationship was one-sided - on _my _part."

Sodapop knows, judging from his silence. He's probably known for a really long time. It's probably obvious to him. He hangs up before you can say thanks for letting you know and ask him how it happened.

You wonder if Sodapop is breaking down on the other side of the phone like you are just then.

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><p>The following Monday, you hear two cheerleaders whispering to each other about Dallas. They're not saying anything too nice about him. You blood begins to boil and in a matter of seconds, you cross the room and slap one of them across the face.<p>

You get detention for that. For some reason, you let yourself believe that where ever Dallas is watching you with that same satisfied smirk that he wore after had sex with you. Maybe he's proud. Maybe he's with God and he's smirking down at you and he's saying, "Nice going," with an angel at his side.

_(Goddammit, you're lying to yourself again.)_

Because it would be a cold day in hell before Dallas ever gave enough of a damn about you to be proud.

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><p><strong>so what did you guys think? this is what i'd imagine a dally relationship would be. the girl fawning all over him and him not even caring. don't get me wrong, i love dally. but i just can't see him in a stable relationship, you know? that's why i don't really read dallyoc stories unless they turn out like this. **

**please tell me what you think! review, review like the wiiiind! :)**


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